asp, his feet on the pedals in front, with
the single thought in his mind that the Ajax was run and controlled
by his hand alone.

Gerald explained the points of starting, showing him the three speeds
forward and the reverse; how to regulate his spark so as to keep the
motor from knocking, especially on heavy grades; then how to advance
the spark where the pull was slight, so as to make the motor work
cooler and to use less gasoline.

Jim admired Gerald's thorough knowledge of the car. It showed a side
to the boy's nature that Jim had not suspected--in fact, the Gerald
Blank who owned this auto was hardly the same boy who had caused so
much dissension on the houseboat the summer before.

"When you think you've had enough, we'll let Ephy try it," said
Gerald.

"I'd never get enough," smiled Jim. "So better let Ephy get a-hold
right here and now."

He good-naturedly resigned his post, and Ephraim soon found himself
sitting in the chauffeur's seat, the big steering wheel almost
touching his breast, his feet on the pedals. Then Gerald instructed
him as he had Jim. When he told the old negro to press slowly on one
of the pedals to make the machine slow down, Ephraim misunderstood
his orders and pressed the wrong one, with the result that the speed
remained undiminished, while the exhaust set up such a beating that
Ephy turned a shade whiter.

The joke was on him. No harm was done, and soon, when Gerald and Jim
were through laughing at him, he began to show considerable agility
in the handling of the car.

"I'll give you both another lesson to-morrow," said Gerald, as, some
seven miles out of the city, he took charge of the big machine and
turned for the run back to Baltimore.

Soon the engines began to sing as the car gathered headway. The road
was clear ahead, hence Gerald felt no qualms about "speeding her up."
He kept a close watch, however, for lanes and crossroads, twice
slowing down for railway crossings, only to resume his former pace
when on the other side. Trees and houses flashed past in hopeless
confusion. A cloud of dust arose behind them, and mingled with the
gaseous smoke that came from the rear of the machine.

Through the city they went, now at a much lessened pace--in fact, at
only eight miles an hour, which was the speed limit in the
city--finally turning out along the shores of the Chesapeake toward
old Bellvieu.

Dorothy and Aunt Betty were sitting on the gallery when they drew up,
and wave